“Why’d I get put in this class, man?” He mumbles as he breaks the tip of his pencil. The class has been silent for twenty minutes straight now.

“Don’t know, Reg,” his friend murmurs back.

Reggie scribbles aggressively before rubbing his finger along the paper. His paper is a hot mess. Grinding his teeth together, his gaze falls onto the kid across from him. Who is engrossed in his drawing of a dragon. Reg scoffs quietly at the detailed piece.

“Hey Danny, listen, I suck at this stuff. I need help,” he whispers. Danny’s pupils flicker up from his paper. The guy was a dork, always drawing dragons and superheroes.

With a sheepish grin, Danny replies, “What do you need help with?” Nobody ever really asked him for help. He was honored.

“Draw an eagle for me, would ya?”

Danny pauses. “But we aren’t supposed to-” Reggie abruptly interrupts him with a scowl. “I can’t fail, bud.” Forcefully, he slides his scuffed-up paper over to Danny.

“No.”

“Yes,” Reg snaps back, yet the dork still refuses to grab the paper. After a pregnant silence, their art teacher exchanges disappointed glares with the two of them. Reggie gives up. He’ll make sure Danny will regret it later. To him, the solution to every problem is his fists. He might even bring his goons for this one. Even if a short, microscopic guy like Danny can barely handle just Reg by himself.

Later that day, as soon as that bell rings, Reggie and his gang stalk Danny out to the parking lot. As he turns a corner, Reg snatches Danny’s backpack.

“Aye, where you going?”

Danny spins around to witness Reg and his sidekicks staring into his soul.

“I’m going home?” He replies, a dash of fear tucked in his voice. Reggie can’t help but chuckle.

“Says who?”

Sensing the potential danger, Danny begins to sprint away on his two scrawny legs. By the time Reg can process what is happening, Danny has disappeared. In anguish, he digs around in the dork’s backpack and rips up the dragon drawing. That kid is fast. Faster than any high school track star he has ever seen.